


Whole

by Youremyalways



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Dean, Car Accident, Caring Dean, Fluff, Hurt Dean, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Sam, M/M, Paralyzed Sam Winchester, Smut, Wincest - Freeform, brothers in love, major injury sam, reassuring dean, sam breaks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youremyalways/pseuds/Youremyalways
Summary: An accident leaves Sam paralyzed from the waist down.Dean tries to assure him that it will all be okay, that he will heal him. However, Sam struggles with not letting insecurity eat him away.Smut. Angst. Hurt/Comfort.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

Sam and Dean had a list of the places they would never return to. 

It was a relatively short list, only meant for the absolute worst cities and towns they’d set foot in. The ones they swore to never revisit because the trauma associated with them was so horrific. The ones that made chills run up their spines at just a mere mention of their name. The ones they’d take hour, or even day-long detours to avoid. 

Their childhood home. Stanford. Poughkeepsie. 

And after their latest hunt? Dean was adding Plymouth, Massachusetts to the list. 

It wasn’t even the hunt that went wrong. It was a basic, probably under their pay grade, find-and-kill. Two young vampires killing high school students. Dean decapitated one right when they entered the bloodsuckers’ nest. Sam doped the other up with deadman’s blood not ten minutes later. They cleared up an alibi with the local badges and then they were on the road. 

_ That’s  _ when it went wrong.

One second Sam was sleeping soundly in the passenger's seat while Dean mouthed along to every word of his Led Zeppelin cassette tape. He was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and rocking his head to the beat, relishing in Sam’s soft snores because they meant his brother was finally resting. 

Then, in a single second that felt like a million, a cement truck came out of nowhere. It made an illegal left turn onto the road and nailed the impala on the passenger's side, sending the car spinning across the freeway. It crossed three lanes before finally settling with a thud on a grass shoulder off the main road. Smoke erupted and car horns screeched. The cement truck reversed away from the car and sped off. The picture perfect hit and run. 

Dean crawled out of the compressed metal frame with a mild concussion and a few cuts and bruises. 

He had to drag Sam out by the ankles. His brother was unconscious, head bleeding and back bent in a way that in no way looked natural. 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s been a car accident…my brother…  _ help _ .” 

Twelve minutes later Dean found his head strapped to the back of a gurney as a couple of paramedics slid him into an ambulance. Sam was right behind him on a backboard of his own. His eyes were still shut, and his lips were parted. He was so,  _ so _ pale. Scarily pale. 

“Male… unconscious… shock… spinal trauma…” 

Dean could only make out a few of the words here and there. He was too focused on fighting the cloudiness of his own brain and making sure Sam didn’t die on him. He kept staring at his brother’s face, waiting for him to stir. For his eyelids to peek open. But nothing happened. 

And nothing continued to happen for the entire drive. Dean begged his brother to stay with him, to not let go. To keep fighting. But all his words fell on deaf ears. 

“No!” He screamed when the doctors at the emergency room explained that they were separating him and Sam into different units, “I need to be with him!” 

“You need a head scan, they’re prepping him for emergency surgery. You can’t stay together!” A younger looking male nurse explained out as he pushed his stretcher down a crowded hallway, eyes wide, “I’m sorry, sir. This is what we have to do.” 

“Surgery?!” Dean yelled the only word he’d heard in the nurse’s whole onslaught, “For what?!” 

The nurse didn’t answer him.

“For what?!” He screamed again, but the man ignored his question for the second time. 

He was on the verge of tears as the nurse pushed him into a large room with an even larger machine in the middle. Something was being slipped over his face and before he could even ask what the hell it was, his body was turning to jello and he surrendered to the blackness. 

He slept the entire night on sedatives before waking up in a small, almost entirely white room by himself. He felt groggy, dehydrated, and like he was hungover all at once. It took him a few minutes to get oriented. When he finally did, he reached for the call button and hit it firmly four times. 

The first, last, and only thought on his mind was Sam. 

The nurse that came in was very quickly overwhelmed by Dean’s demands for information on his little brother. She was incredibly young, probably just out of college, because her hands were shaking and she avoided eye contact with him the whole time. Her words came out flustered and she rushed out of the room after telling him she’d get the Doctor. Dean clenched his jaw and waited impatiently, staring at the door like it had hurt him. 

She came back in three minutes later with another, older looking woman dressed in teal scrubs. Her glasses rested on the bridge of her nose and she looked at Dean with thoughtful, hazel eyes

“You’re not the doctor.” He hissed, “Bring me the damn doctor!” 

This older nurse was more patient. She sighed and stepped forward, clutching a clipboard in her armpit. 

“I can’t. Dr.Landeskog is still in surgery with your brother. It’ll be a few more hours before you can talk to him.” She explained in an even, unwavering tone that made Dean’s skin crawl. 

“What happened to my brother?” Dean asked reluctantly, teeth still grinding together in frustration.

She peered down momentarily, curly hair bouncing. The younger one was still hovering behind her back like it would protect her from Dean’s wrath. 

When she looked back up, her eyes met Dean’s and she sighed, “Sir, I don’t have all the information so I am going to refrain from answering questions about Mr.Stone’s condition. I can tell you that he is alive and he is in surgery.” 

“Bullshit!” Dean yelled, slamming his fist down on the table next to his bed.

“Excuse me, sir!” The nurse raised her voice to meet his volume before lowering it back down and explaining, “It is not my fault that the hospital has the rules it does. I cannot disclose a patient’s information until the doctor verifies it. I am sorry.” 

Dean realized that anger wasn’t going to break this woman. She’d clearly been around the block a few times. So, he tried for pathos.

“Please.” He begged quietly, tilting his head as the tears welled in his eyes, “He’s my brother. I look after him. I need to know he’s okay.” 

The nurse let out a long breath.

“He’s alive.” She spoke softly, “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.” 

Dean bit down on his cheek, the anger and frustration building inside. 

“Now, would you like to hear about your own condition?” The nurse asked patiently. 

Dean shook his head. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about his own injuries. He needed to help  _ Sam _ . 

“No. I’m barely hurt. I just want Sam.” 

“He’s in a second surgery, it will be a while before you can see him. Between the second and third, you’ll be able to talk to his doctor. Until then, can I get you anything for your own pain? You have a mild concussion, I can get you some pain medication for that if you’d like.” 

He completely ignored the second half of what she said because the first half was  _ far  _ too unsettling to ignore. 

“Three surgeries?!” Dean yelled, shooting up in his bed. He groaned and lowered himself back down immediately because the sudden movement made his head start throbbing in pain. 

“Calm down.” The nurse instructed, placing a firm hand on his chest to keep him down, “Sir, there’s nothing you can do. When the information becomes available, you will know it. Until then, get some rest. I’ll add pain meds to your IV.”

Dean knit his eyebrows. Since when did he have an IV? He locked eyes on it and huffed, not pleased. He sat quietly, angerly, as the nurse adjusted his medication. 

He passed out because of the hefty pain medication half an hour later, slept for four hours, and woke up to a knocking at the door. 

“Dean Stone?” A kind-eyed, older looking man walked into the room with bags under his eyes and reddened irises. He looked very low on sleep. 

“Are you the doctor?” Dean asked immediately, skipping all the introductions and going straight for the gold. 

The man smiled softly and extended his hand.

“I’m Sam’s orthopedic surgeon. My name is Doctor Landeskog.” He introduced himself as he shook Dean’s hand, taking a seat in the chair next to his bed. 

“I don’t have the patience for small talk, Doc. How is he?” Dean asked as he slipped his hand out of the doctor’s grip- once again jumping directly to what he cared about. 

The doctor nodded minimally, like he’d had this conversation a million times. He let out a breath and pulled out his clipboard, crossing his legs and resting it on his knee. 

“I have bad news and good news.” He started, “The good news is that Sam is alive and as of right now, I have no reason to believe he won’t survive the next surgery or post-op. You seem like a rational man and I’m sure you’ve had enough euphemization today, so I’m not going to sugarcoat the bad part for you. Mr.Stone, your brother sustained severe spinal damage. Several vertebrae were broken and the spinal cord itself was marred. The force of the car crash compressed his spine and his nerves underwent a mass necrosis- when cells die due to external trauma. Now, Sam is a hell of a fighter and he’s young. I have no reason to believe he cannot at least partially recover from this, which is why I am going to attempt a third surgery. The nerve damage is extensive, but I am going to go in again in hopes of minimizing the prolonged effects. There is no guarantee, Mr.Stone, but I am going to try.” 

Dean’s stomach was in absolute knots. His lungs were deflated and refusing to suck in the oxygen he needed to breathe. His lips were parted and his throat was clogged up. Every cell in his body was screaming and there were goosebumps on his arms. 

“I know this is not easy to hear. We have some amazing trauma and grief counselors on staff, so if you need someone to talk to, I’d be happy to put things in place. Until then, I am going to perform another surgery on Sam and then I’ll put you both in a larger room. I infer you two don’t do ‘separation’ very well.” 

Dean huffed a humorless laugh at the accuracy of that, but it was short lived. He was too focused on the things the doctor said beforehand. 

“Wait, grief counselor?” He accused, knitting his eyebrows and clenching his fist, “You said he’d survive! Why would I talk to a  _ grief _ counselor?!” 

“Take a deep breath, Mr.Stone.” The doctor held out an open palm to calm Dean down, “Sam is not dead, but the grief that comes along with losing the ability to feel and move due to partial paralysis is not far off from the feeling of losing a loved one. It’s a new way of life. It will be incredibly difficult for both of you. If you need someone to talk to, I can arrange that.”

Dean clenched his jaw, “The only person I want to talk to is my brother.” 

The doctor nodded, “I understand, and I sympathize. As soon as he’s out of surgery, I will get you two together. You have my word. Should I call someone to talk to you?” 

Dean jerked his head back, “Absolutely not. I’m not grieving Sam’s body because you said you could fix it. So,  _ fix it _ . Go save my brother.”

The rest of the conversation was filled with empty threats and overly patient platitudes. They talked until the Doctor told Dean he needed to report for Sam’s surgery, and then Dean was alone again. 

He was alone for sixteen more hours. 

It was early the next morning when he was finally moved into a bigger room. Sammy was moved into the bed next to his an hour later. 

His skin was ghostly pale, his lips were chapped, and his eyes were closed. 

He didn’t wake up until that night around six o’clock.

The doctor came in shortly after. He broke the news. 

Sam was paralyzed from the waist down. He would never walk or feel below his navel again. His spine was too damaged. There was only so much they could do.

Dean got out of his bed and crawled in beside Sam. His brother cried himself to sleep. 

Dean was discharged one day later. Sam took an extra thirteen days to gain the same escape. There were more surgeries, more complications, more grief… 

Sam was holding it together incredibly well, but Dean knew he was struggling. The entire drive home, he just stared out the window. He didn’t speak, didn’t complain about the music, didn’t suggest stopping for gas or coffee… nothing. Everytime Dean asked him how he was doing, he just brushed it off. 

“I’m fine.”

“I’m just tired.”

“I’m okay.” 

It made Dean sad. He didn’t want Sam to hide from him. He didn’t want him to hurt. 

But maybe, just maybe, Sam  _ was _ okay. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Maybe it would all be alright.

That’s what Dean told himself as he walked right into the entrance of Sam’s room two days after his little brother came home.

Sam was sitting propped up against a couple pillows, long body outstretched and arms crossed over his chest. The blankets were pooled around his ankles and his legs were clad in thick sweatpants with an elastic waistband. His hair was neat and straight, hanging by his face in a way that drew flattering attention to his jawline. 

Dean just let out a long, silent breath as he looked at him. He leaned into the door, resting his shoulder and temple against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. A soft smile tugged at his lips when Sam made eye contact.

“Hey.” He called from the bed, looking up at Dean with easy, loving eyes.

Dean’s smile grew and he asked quietly, patiently, “How you feeling?”

Sam was putting on a hell of a brave face, but Dean knew he was hurting. It would be impossible not to be. It’d only been two full days since he’d been discharged from the hospital, and he was having a hard time adjusting to living without his lower body functions. The amount of times the wheelchair got caught in a doorway, the extra ten minutes it took him in the bathroom just maneuvering himself, the way he couldn’t sleep on his side anymore like he used to always prefer… it was all just so hard. For both of them, but especially for Sam.

But as Dean expected, his brother brushed him off with a shrug, “I’m fine. A little groggy from the meds maybe, but can’t complain.”

Dean pushed his lips to one side of his mouth, wishing Sam would just be open with him and reveal his true feelings. His true  _ pain _ .

“Are you sure?” He asked as he walked out of the doorway and into the room. He closed the door behind him before approaching the bed, “You don’t have to put up a front for me. You know that, right?”

He sat down on the far end of the bed and looked up to meet Sam’s eyes. He reached out and placed a hand on his thigh- even though Sam couldn’t feel it. Old habits die hard.

“I know.” His brother smiled softly, “I really am okay right now. It… it hits me at different times, you know? Right now, I’m okay. Seriously.” 

Dean was happy that Sam was fine right now, but it did make his stomach hurt to think about all of the times when he wasn’t okay. However… he needed to push that worry aside. He needed to take advantage of this moment. Here and now. 

So he let out a long breath and crawled up the mattress until he was hovering over Sam’s upper body. He dropped his lips to meet his brother’s as he threw an arm over Sam’s chest so he was leaning on his forearms above him. Their lips parted and their tongues lid against each other for several long moments. Dean pulled his hand up to Sam’s head and tangled his fingers in his hair to hold him in place. He hummed into his mouth, pressing their chests together and closing his eyes to just relish in the feeling.

Eventually, Dean pulled a few inches away. He left one hand tangled in Sam’s long hair and simply allowed himself to be mesmerized by the flush of his brother’s face and the pink of his lips. Dean stroked his thumb gently against his cheek and earned a beautiful smile in return. Sam looked so peaceful and happy like this, and for a moment… Dean forgot all about the chaos of the past few weeks.

“I love you,” he whispered, afraid of breaking the perfection of this moment, but unable to hold the words back. He nuzzled into Sam’s nose lightly, heart fluttering. 

“I love you too,” Sam answered immediately in a soft chuckle, the happiness radiating from his face.

Dean pulled away from him, a smile on his face, and then made quick work of undoing his hoodie. He slid the zipper down and shrugged it off until he was only in a thin, dark gray tee shirt. He let the hoodie fall to the floor, not missing the hungry look on Sam’s face as his arms became bare. The lustful expression was more than enough to get Dean going, too. 

He lowered himself back down to the bed so he was lying next to Sam, their eyes connecting. Sam slowly extended a hand to him and instinctively, Dean intertwined their fingers and gave his brother’s hand a squeeze. He propped himself up on an elbow and shuffled closer to Sam so that his chest, stomach and leg touched the side of his body. Their eyes were still locked. In a matter of seconds, their breathing synced up in a peaceful, almost ethereal way. They both felt so safe like this. 

The hand Dean wasn’t holding slowly slid up to his cheek. Sam gently traced his jawline with one finger first, then with his palm. Dean leaned into it easily. 

“Hi.” He whispered softly when his and Sam’s eyes connected again. It was such an intimate moment. 

Sam smiled just the tiniest bit. It was a warm smile. A homely smile. 

“Hi.” He repeated in a whisper. 

And then neither of them could hold back anymore. At the exact same time, they both leaned forward and their lips found each other like magnets made to connect. Teeth and tongues entered the mix fairly soon after their lips first touched and just as the intensity peaked, they moaned in unison. The force of their desire for each other hit them unexpectedly. They hadn’t kissed like this since before Plymouth. It was nice. 

They didn’t know if it lasted five seconds or five hours. They didn’t care. They just lost themselves in each other, relishing in their reconnection after weeks of uncertainty and fear. 

Dean squeezed Sam’s hand tightly as the emotions suddenly hit him. He couldn’t stop the rampage in his mind telling him over and over again that he almost lost Sam. His brother almost died. He was paralyzed. He might never walk again. A shiver ran up his spine as the fear resurfaced, but he tried his best to let Sam kiss it away. 

It was still too much to think about. He needed more connection, so he let go of Sam’s hand and brought his palm up to his face. He gently stroked Sam’s cheek, index finger sliding along his jawline. Sam whined low, his own hand reaching up automatically to cup the back of Dean’s neck. 

Soon, Dean’s lips took over for his finger on Sam’s neck, his tongue lavishing the tender spot he knew Sammy couldn’t resist. He slid his fingers down to his cotton-covered pec, thumb caressing his nipple in a circular motion. Sam arched against him, the pleasure escaping from his lips in a soft moan, giving Dean even more access to his neck. Dean didn’t miss the opportunity to devour the exposed skin.

Sam’s reaction to his ministrations was stronger than usual, Dean mentally noted, his upper body was much more responsive than it used to be. That was probably normal. When you lose the ability to feel in your bottom half… Dean cleared his throat to stop himself from getting choked up. 

He took a deep breath and refocused on giving his brother pleasure. It was the absolute least he could do. So, he took his hand off of Sam’s chest to slide it underneath his red tee shirt. As soon as his palm made contact with the muscle-toned skin of his brother’s stomach, Sam let out a groan and in a hurried motion, brought his lips back to Dean’s in an urgent kiss. Dean moved slightly over him, his weight still balanced on his arm in a cautious effort to not crush Sam.

“Dean…” Sam moaned, tugging at his hair and writhing with his upper body.

Dean instantly knew what he needed, because he needed it too. 

More contact. More skin. More him. More them. 

He broke the contact with Sam just long enough to shed his tee shirt. It ended up right by the hoodie on the floor, and then Dean was reaching down to help Sam remove his own tee. He paused for a moment at the sight of Sam’s chiseled torso. He couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of the exposed body. He’s seen Sam naked too many times to count, but… damn, it never got old. 

“Gorgeous.” He mumbled low as he leaned back down and fell directly into Sam’s open arms. 

He enveloped Sam with his body, arms wrapping around him back, chests pressing against each other.

“Yes…” Sam murmured against his ear, wrapping his lips around Dean’s earlobe and sucking lightly, his nails scratching against his shoulder blades. 

Dean groaned, unable to control the flash of desire that took over him. He knew that this would take time and patience, but the intensity of his desire for Sam remained intact, and the technicality of his injury was merely a detail in their passion.

Dean went on kissing every single inch of skin available under his tongue, memorizing the new sensitivity that was Sam’s, trying to identify in the intensity of his moans the spots driving his desire higher. He felt himself hardening against him and for a second he thanked his initiative to wear sweatpants, his erection visible but comfortable. 

Both of them got lost in desire, their breathing heavy and the movement of their hands erratic. They physically could not get enough of each other, not now that they were  _ finally _ reconnecting. After weeks of fear and surgeries and hospital rooms… they were reconnecting. 

As Dean mouthed along his collarbone, he subconsciously slid one of his hands down to Sam’s waist, fingers edging into his pants. He was stopped immediately, however, by one of Sam’s hands grabbing his wrist and yanking it away. 

“Dean…” he choked, his body tense in apprehension. 

Dean leaned back and then his eyes were immediately on Sam’s, looking for any trace of discomfort. Suddenly very nervous, he gently cupped Sam’s chin with his palm and inhaled slowly. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, careful not to push him too hard, “Sam, talk to me.”

There were tears brimming in his brother’s eyes now and he looked almost embarrassed. He slid his gaze away from Dean’s as he caught his breath. 

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” Dean reassured, gently caressing his jawline. He hated seeing Sam so upset, “It’s only me. You can tell me anything.” 

Sam kept on avoiding his gaze, taking a few moments to find the correct words. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“Dean… I’m… I’m not even sure… I don’t know if… if I can…” he hesitated, stuttering uncontrollably and finding himself unable to look at Dean as the doubt creeped into him, pushing him forcefully into a very dark place.

Dean lifted his chin, forcing Sam to make eye contact with him. The love, patience and lust he saw in his eyes was overshadowed by the anxiety. Dean felt himself become nervous by proximity. But moreso, he was worried. Concerned. Sam was in an incredibly vulnerable spot right now, and Dean had to respect that. Allow him to take the reins.

He started slowly, patiently, “Sam, if you’re not ready to…”

“No!” Sam cut him off abruptly, reaching for his cheek and brushing his thumb over it, “I am! I mean… I want to… I’m just…” He breathed out, getting choked up, “I’m not sure I can.”

Dean’s heart broke a little, but he knew he had to be strong for Sam right now. He had to ground him. 

So he swallowed down the fear and sadness and kissed Sam’s cheek.

“Hey.” He smiled softly as he pulled a few inches away, “There’s only one way to find out. One step at a time. You and me. But only if you’re one hundred percent sure this is what you want.” 

His words immediately made Sam feel safer and he nodded before he could even think about it. There was no one else in the world he trusted more than Dean. He’d proven to him so many times how generous he was. Sam knew he had nothing to fear, nothing to be apprehensive about. The love between them could be expressed in so many different manners. He knew deep down that sex was only a small part of it- especially after everything they’ve been through. But… he wanted to do this. He wanted to give Dean as much as he gave him. To feel his body against his again. To at the very least let Dean experience some sort of release after weeks of stress weighing him down. 

“I’m sure.” He whispered, “Just…” 

He didn’t even know what he wanted to ask for. Luckily, Dean knew him better than he knew himself. 

“I’ve got you.” He soothed sweetly, staring directly into Sam’s soul through his eyes. 

Sam bit his lip and swallowed to clear the emotions from his throat. With a deep breath, he asked, “Where do we start?”

Dean laughed a bit at the question, his mouth peppering kisses all over Sam’s neck and pec. He broke away from him once more to get up off the bed. He caught his breath as he stood up, and then he promptly removed the blanket that still covered Sam’s legs. 

When he sat back down, he stayed right by Sam’s feet.

“This is where we begin,” he explained.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, confused. Dean smiled at his reaction and moved towards his feet to remove his socks. He took his naked feet in his hands, massaging them, still surprised by how cold they now were. Sam gave him a small and sad smile, the warmth of his hands not reaching him. Not discouraged, Dean moved over him, his face now at his stomach level. With both hands, he grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants as well as his boxers. He lifted his head to look at him, questioning him with a simple look. Sam took a deep breath and nodded firmly. He could almost feel Dean’s hand on his hips, but as he pulled the material off his legs, he lost the sensation of him, like a boat lost in the sea. He knew it was there somewhere, but he was not sure he could ever find it again.

Sam’s naked, now. He expected to feel more exposed, more vulnerable. But the way Dean was looking at him made him feel weirdly normal. Comfortable, even. He felt sexy and he felt like himself. The lust in Dean’s eyes and the way he licked his lips had a lot to do with that.

Dean hovered on top of him and kissed the top of his pec- the right side, then the left. He stopped after a few seconds to kiss Sam’s lips with the conviction of a man incredibly in love with his partner in life.

As he began to move on top of Sam again, the younger brother shook his head and raised an eyebrow.

“You forgot something,” he laughed, his right hand waving at Dean’s still half clothed self.

Dean laughed under his breath and shook his head a little, amused. Two dimples appeared on his face as he removed his remaining clothes one by one. Sam felt the warmth spreading through his body. In the gloriousness of his naked frame, he couldn’t hide the desire he felt for his brother, and that boosted Sam’s confidence. He may be paralyzed, but he still turned Dean on. That much was evident. 

As soon as Dean slid back into the bed, Sam wrapped his arms around his neck and he melted into the embrace. Dean’s lips weaved against his, and the doubt Sam experienced a few minutes ago was replaced with an insatiable desire that burned within him. He moaned and arched against Dean, seeking more contact, more pressure, more sensation. He panted against his brother’s neck, the weight of his body against him enough to make him lose control. His hands urged him to press against him. They slid down until he could grip the roundness of his ass, pressing it down to seek more friction against his center. He let out a frustrated noise when the sensation got to him muffled, distant, almost unreachable. 

Sensing his frustration, Dean moved his mouth from his lips to his right nipple. Without warning he sucked on it, rolling his tongue against it until he felt it harden in his mouth. Sam whined in pleasure, the intensity of his new sensitivity catching him by surprise. Dean heard him moaning his name between pants and he knew the frustration was slowly being forgotten. That was good. That was what he wanted.

He kept sucking, licking his pec until Sam’s nails were scratching his skull. He bit his nipple very softly, the sensation of his teeth on the sensitive spot enough to make Sam see stars. 

“Dean…” He huffed, eyes closing in pleasure.

“Shhh, baby.” Dean cooed as he abandoned his nipple with a soft pop and switched to the left one. 

Before the accident, it had always been his most sensitive one. And if Sam’s hand flying into the bedspread, searching for something to hold onto, was any indication of his pleasure, he would say it was still very much his - and Dean’s - favorite. As his tongue continued to play with one pec, his hand slid over to massage the other. Dean lost himself in the pleasure that spilled out of Sam’s mouth. He couldn’t help but look up at him. His eyes were shut and he was shaking his head from side to side, unable to contain the pleasure that he was finally getting to experience. The vision of Sam totally drawn in delight made Dean grow harder.

Focused on his task, Dean didn’t notice Sam’s hand sliding down, reaching for his cock, until it was literally right there. As soon as his fingers closed around him, Dean let out a choked sound and fluttered his eyes shut. He gave up Sam’s nipples for a second, dropping his forehead to rest against his pecs. For a moment, he was unable to process anything other than the feeling of Sam’s rough palm against his cock. He lost consciousness of time and space when he started running him hand up and down his length.

“God, Sam.” He whimpered against his chest as his brother ran a thumb over the wet tip of his cock. He couldn’t stop his hips from jerking into his hand at the feeling. 

Sam smiled before capturing his lips once more, the kiss growing in intensity as he increased the pace of his strokes. God, Sam had missed the feeling of having him totally at his own mercy, all of Dean’s desire literally in the palm of his hand. He recognized the intensity of his brother’s need when his hips started moving frantically. He knew he was playing with fire. They hadn’t had sex for way too many weeks and if his own desire, as different as it was now, was already off charts, he  _ knew _ that Dean was struggling to remain in control of his body. Sam released the pressure on his cock, sliding him hand lower, softly caressing his balls. Dean’s eyes snapped up to his and he shook his head- half frustrated, half amused.

“Sam,” he growled, threatening. 

Sam laughed in answer, the sound soon cut off by Dean slamming his mouth on his. He grabbed his wrist delicately and pushed it away from his length. Slowly, he grabbed Sam’s thigh and opened him wider for him. Sam’s eyes were on him, the apprehension suddenly hitting him. This was it… what if… 

The rhythm slowed down. Dean’s forehead moved to his as their eyes locked. He hovered over him, his weight on one forearm next to his face while his other hand moved towards his hole.

“Relax, Sammy.” He whispered against his mouth, the tension in his body undeniable. 

Dean’s hand traveled across his inner thigh, his eyes on him, reading his reactions. As his face remained still, he increased the pressure, looking for a sensation. Sam shook his head, a sad smile on his lips as he struggled to feel the hand on him. Dean took a deep breath and smiled back at him, pecking his lips. He quickly lubed up his index finger and then ever so slowly moved his hand down, slowly breaching his brother. 

The pleasure reached Sam through thick doors, like muffled by his injury- but this time he did feel Dean against him. He experienced a soft pleasure. It wasn’t burning or intense like he was used to, but rather distant and slowly consuming. He couldn’t feel the exact motions but he felt the warmth of his love inside his.

He creased his eyebrows and Dean immediately stopped.

“No, don’t!” he almost pleaded. “Don’t stop, Dean, don’t stop… Please…”

“Okay, okay. I got you.” Dean shushed him gently, obliging to Sam’s request by adding another finger and going a little bit harder and a little bit faster. Sam let out a low, grumbling moan when Dean curled his fingers inside him. The pleasure was building in him as Dean’s mouth went back to his left nipple, eyes never leaving his face.

It wasn’t enough and it wasn’t going to be enough. Sam knew that. But at the same time, it was so much more than anything he expected, so he would enjoy every second of it. 

Every sensation Dean gave him, every hint of pleasure he offered, every second he shared with him… He’d take it all, and give back as much of it as he could. His pleasure was not going to be in his release but in the act of loving itself.

The pressure from Dean’s hands and mouth were making Sam weak. It was great. It was reassuring. But… he needed more. He kept panting against Dean, the connection with him stronger than his sexual arousal.

“I need you, Dean, please,” He whispered as he tugged at his brother’s hair.

He saw desire, love and patience in Dean’s eyes as he withdrew his fingers. He shifted slightly against him, balancing his weight while simultaneously opening Sam’s legs wider for him, never looking away. 

“Are you sure?” Dean inquired, eyes and voice asking the same question. 

Sam nodded, and with that, Dean leaned in and kissed him with all the love he could possibly put into a kiss. With the love of a man who almost lost his soulmate.

Dean pulled back just enough to take himself in hand and proceeded to stroke his own length a few times. He licked his lips and suppressed a moan as he brought the head of his cock to Sam’s rim, pressing it there for a moment.

“I love you, Sam.” He couldn’t stop himself from saying. The intensity and vulnerability of the moment were getting to him.

“I love you too,” Sam immediately echoed, pecking Dean’s lips before reaching down and helping guide Dean’s hand until he was pressing in. 

He slid in slowly, and both of them were lost in the intensity of the moment. Dean focused on Sam, careful not to hurt him, not to push him too far. Sam remained focused on Dean’s expression, fascinated by the myriad of emotions flying across his face, his desire directly linked with his own. If the sensation of his cock buried in him to the hilt hardly reached him, the pleasure he got from the connection of their two souls through their bodies left him speechless. 

He knew Dean was forcing himself not to move. It was in his strained breaths and tense upper body. He was not only letting Sam adjust to him, but letting  _ himself  _ adjust to the overwhelming sensation of his walls surrounding him. 

One of Sam’s hands slid down to his brother’s ass and pushed so that Dean’s dick pressed in deeper, urging him to move.

“Sam… Fuck…” His jaw dropped as he groaned. But Sam got his wish, because soon after, Dean started rocking against him, his movements long and slow- determined to share his desire.

Meticulous in his strokes, he hit Sam’s prostate over and over, increasing the pressure on his body every time he was buried deep in him. Sam kept his eyes on Dean- he had to fight the urge to close them in response to the pleasure he was experiencing. 

Dean’s mouth didn’t leave his neck, his jaw, his ears as he moved against him. His rhythm was mercilessly slow but he knew that speeding up would mean finishing way too early, limiting Sam’s experience. 

If only he knew that nothing he could do would get Sam close enough to cross that line. Sam was realizing it, too.

As the pressure on his core kept growing, the intensity of his pleasure remained the same, his body reaching its limit in the physical expression of their love. It was all so distant, so underwhelming. Not nearly enough.

“Dean…” He whimpered against his brother’s shoulder. The apprehension and frustration were laced throughout his tone. 

“Close your eyes, baby, close your eyes for me and follow my voice,” Dean murmured breathlessly against Sam’s lips.

After a deep breath, he followed Dean’s lead, trusting him to not lead him astray. 

“Close your eyes and try to remember the feeling of me moving in you,” Dean whispered, his voice lowered by his desire. 

Sam shivered under the intensity of his words. Out of instinct, he gripped Dean’s shoulders, anchoring himself to him- to the strength of his muscles, to the passion of his words.

“Focus on how it feels when I enter you, in… out… in… out…. slowly… “

His movements followed his words and if Dean wasn’t sure whether or not Sam could experience the physical pleasure of his length in him, he sensed him feeling at least some pleasure and desire from the contact he could feel and the words he could hear. 

“That’s it, baby… Just you and me… slowly… until you beg me to speed up,” he added jokingly, making Sam laugh and open his eyes.

“No, no, no… keep your eyes shut,” Dean encouraged him, his teeth softly biting the flesh of his shoulder.

Sam sighed loudly, the pleasure relaxing his body but the tension in his shoulders still intact.

“More, Dean… more,” he urged, his nails digging into his brother’s shoulders.

Dean answered him by speeding up, his hands sliding underneath his butt, lifting his hips to accentuate the friction.

Sam groaned. He lost himself in a space where only Dean and him lived, a space where his words were his hands, where his tone was the penetrating force inside of him, where his mind was the pleasure running through him.

“Feel my hands on your ass, Sam… squeezing it… never letting go… God…” Dean choked as he let a loud moan out, his pleasure overwhelming. He felt the base of his spine tingling, a clear sign of his impending release.

“Feel me moving in you, Sam,” He gasped, fighting the urge to cum. He needed to get Sam there first, “Faster… harder… just like you love it…”

Dean kept rocking against him for a few minutes, and Sam found himself marveled by the normality of the moment.

“Dean… yes…”

“Okay, come on…” He murmured against Sam’s ear. He got up then, pulling himself to his knees and reaching for Sam’s legs. He hauled them up over his shoulders and pressed back in with a grunt.

With a small cry of pleasure, Sam abandoned watching Dean to bury his face in the pillow. The new angle allowed Dean to get even deeper inside of him, hitting that very special spot buried far away. His body didn’t react the same way it used to, but the intensity of the penetration dragged low moans out of him. He’d never felt such power, such intensity.

Sam could feel Dean speeding up, his release imminent. He recognized the grip of his hands on his hips, the tension in his neck, the heaviness of his breathing. He kept moving above him, thrusting harshly into his ass. His rhythm soon became frantic and punched-out groans flew from his mouth. He wasn’t coming, though. He was holding on tight to keep his release back. Sam knew that he was trying to draw out this beautiful moment between them as long as he could. He was waiting for Sam to cum. He was giving him the time to build pleasure. It was sweet, but… 

“In… and out, baby.” Dean panted, sounding like he’d just run a marathon, “Oh God… in and out.”

Sam lifted his face so he was staring directly into Dean’s eyes. He breathed out and reached for his neck, pulling him down. Sam’s legs fell off of Dean’s shoulders in the process, but neither of them cared. He leaned his forehead against his brother’s, their sweaty skin meeting. Sam knew he wasn’t going to orgasm. There just wasn’t enough stimulation. There was no way he could get there. But he also knew that Dean wouldn’t allow himself to let go until Sam did. And Dean deserved to fucking cum. More than anyone. And he was so incredibly close to the edge- Sam knew all of his tells. So… 

“I need you to come, Dean, please.” He panted against Dean’s mouth, biting his lip and begging, “If you come, I’ll be right after you.” 

Dean looked up at him with surprised and hopeful eyes. His voice was strained but amazed and relieved, “Really?!”

He sounded so excited. It killed Sam to lie to him. But… 

“Yeah.” He nodded, squinting his eyes for good measure. He always used to squint when he was right on edge, “Come, baby!” 

It was a matter of milliseconds before Dean was shouting his name in an almost pained moan. He gave a few hectic thrusts and spilled into his brother’s body, slamming his eyes closed and rocking gently to extend the pleasure as he came. He gripped Sam’s hair tight, pulling at the follicles and curling his fingers in ecstasy as long moans dripped from his mouth. Sam kissed at his cheek as he shook and gasped, whispering assurances and helping his brother ride it out. Eventually, his hips slowed and he dropped his head to Sam’s shoulder, breathing in heavy pants. He whimpered as he came down, eyes still closed. The satiated and exhausted groan that poured from his mouth made Sam laugh softly, and then his lips were back on his and he kissed him lazily, messily.

Once Dean came back down to earth, something in his expression changed. He pulled away from Sam and looked at him with tearful eyes and a sincere frown. His eyebrows were slanted down in remorse. 

“Sam…” he started, the regret of not seeing his brother share in the climax audible in his voice. Sam shushed him gently and placed a finger on his lips, preventing him from adding another word. He gave his brother a small smile to let him know it was okay. 

Slowly, Dean leaned back and slipped out of him, two groans echoing the loss of contact. He lowered Sam back down to the mattress carefully, settling him comfortably against the pillows before leaning down himself. He stroked Sam’s hair lovingly before kissing the top of his head.

“You lied.” he whispered, voice low and almost sad.

“It was the only way you were going to let yourself finish.” Sam told him easily, wiping a sweaty strand of hair off of Dean’s forehead, “I wasn’t close, I'm sorry.” 

Dean looked at him with doe eyes. He wasn’t mad, just… disappointed. Sympathetic.

“I thought… I mean, you were responsive.” He spoke softly, “Do you think if we just went a little longer, or tried something else…”

Sam sighed. He took a deep breath as he ran the side of his finger down Dean’s forearm.

“No.” He smiled sadly as he shook his head, “I was never going to get there.” 

Dean deflated. His eyes filled with unwanted tears and he tilted his head back to hold them back. He had hoped with everything in him that Sam’s paralysis would not affect sex for his brother. But now… 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sam stated simply, emotional but strong, his fingers still soothing over Dean’s arm, “I love you, and I don’t need to cum to enjoy sex. It’s enough for me just being so close to you.” 

Tears formed in Dean’s eyes and he took a deep breath before capturing Sam’s lips in one more kiss. Normally he’d tease the heck out of Sam for being such a sap, but he didn’t have it in him right now. All he could think was  _ How on earth is his brother real? _ It didn’t make any sense. If Dean was denied not only walking, but orgasm, possibly for the rest of his life… well, lord only knows how he would handle it. Definitely not as well as Sam was. No chance in hell. 

As their lips weaved, he sent a prayer to the universe, thanking it for giving him Sam. For giving him purpose. For making him whole. He pulled away from Sam’s lips and gently lowered himself down to the mattress so they were both lying down. He sighed and wrapped his arm around Sam’s torso, leaning his head against his pec and nuzzling in. As Sam pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, Dean felt complete again, safe and loved. Content.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Sam whispered as he stroked his hand over his bicep.

Suddenly Dean felt his pulse pick up and he turned his head so he could look up and meet Sam’s eyes. They couldn’t leave off on that note.

“Hang on, I gotta say something.” He whispered. 

Sam’s eyebrows raised in question, and Dean took the motion as his cue to speak.

“I want you to know that if this is the way you are for the rest of your life, I will love you. Nothing could ever make me stop loving you. I don’t care about your body, I care about your heart. Your brain. But…” He had to clear his throat when he saw Sam tearing up. He couldn’t let the emotions overwhelm him. He had to get this out. So, he exhaled and continued, “As far as I’m concerned, this… this is temporary. Sooner than you think, you’re gonna be walking again. You’re gonna feel me inside you. You’re gonna orgasm. You’re gonna experience all the things you used to. Maybe even something better. I will find a way to make it all happen, Sam. I won’t stop until you’re whole, again. I promise you.”

Dean watched a single tear slide down Sam’s cheek. He reached up to wipe it away with his thumb, gently caressing his cheek. The Adam's apple bobbed in Sam’s throat as he blinked away more tears. 

His little brother swallowed to stop himself from getting too choked up before breathing out, “Okay.”

Dean smiled sadly. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Sam’s cheek before lowering himself back down and repeating, “Okay.”

He sighed and nestled his head into Sam’s chest once again. 

“Love you.” He hummed as he pressed a kiss to Sam’s collarbone before closing his eyes and letting himself relax. 

“I love you too, you giant sap.” Sam teased.

Dean rolled his eyes playfully, but nonetheless let himself melt into Sam. He matched his breaths with Sam’s, slowly lulling himself to sleep. The slow caress of Sam’s fingers on his forearm stopped after a few minutes, and that’s when Dean knew his brother was in dreamland. With a content smile on his face, Dean fell asleep to a single thought- the same thought he’d fallen asleep to for the past three weeks:

He would not stop searching for a way to make Sam walk again.

He would never stop.

For Sam. 


	2. Chapter 2

_ I won’t stop until you’re whole again. _

Sam couldn’t stop replaying that sentence in his mind. The way Dean said it. The certainty. The conviction.

_ I won’t stop until you’re whole again. _

When he first said it, Sam thought it was sweet. Dean was promising him that he would search for a way to heal him. It was Dean saying that he was going to try everything and find a way to make Sam walk again. But the more he thought about… the more it made him frustrated and insecure. It was the wording that gnawed at him. Sure, Sam wanted to be able to regain his abilities badly, but… he didn’t think he wasn’t  _ whole _ . Injured, sure. But, not whole? Why was Sam not whole without his legs? 

His mind was the same. His heart. His outward appearance. 

He didn’t think being without the ability to walk would make Dean see him as not being  _ whole _ . And it scared the shit out of him. 

Because if Dean thought that Sam wasn’t whole, then what would happen if he couldn’t find a way to heal him? If he ended up paralyzed forever, would Dean walk away? Or even worse… would he stay because he felt like he  _ had to _ , but loathe every second of it? 

Dean saw him as fractured. Broken. A mere piece of the man he used to be. Not whole. 

He probably didn’t want him as much. He was probably disgusted with who Sam was, now. Hell, Sam could barely have sex with the guy anymore. That was a major part of Dean’s life, and a major part of their life together. What if not having sex the way it used to be was enough to deter Dean? Sam honestly wouldn’t blame him.

He felt nauseated as he realized that Dean must be  _ miserable _ . He was stuck with Sam no matter if he wanted to be. He was too good of a man to leave Sam. Especially now that he was all broken and vulnerable. And he didn’t think he wa-

_ Ring ring ring. _

Sam was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He took a deep breath to tame his nerves and reached for it blindly, looking over at Dean, who was still sound asleep. Sam got out of the bed to answer so he wouldn’t wake him up. 

He clicked the answer button as he shuffled into his wheelchair and made his way through the door. He tucked the phone into his shoulder and closed the door behind him. He wheeled his way into the kitchen as he gathered the energy to start a conversation. 

“Jody, hey.”

————

Jody cried on the phone. Sam’s heart pounded fast and he itched to get the hell away from her sympathy. He didn’t need one of his closest friends sobs to remind him of how much he lost. He was also minorly frustrated that Dean hadn’t told her about his injury. He had to be the one to break it to her, and that was a whole other kind of hurt. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Sam, you don’t have to lie to me, honey. I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you.” 

“I said I’m fine.” 

“Right…” 

She went on to talk about a case she had brewing in Sioux falls. A pack of werewolves. Too many for her to handle.

“I was going to ask if you and your brother could come help, but obviously you’ve got more important things to take care of right now. Don’t worry about it.” 

“No, no. You know what, Dean would love to help. I’m sidelined for the minute, but he’s been itching to get outta here.”

“Really? I figured he’d want to stay with you. Sam, there’s no need to rush into this. I can find someone else.” 

“Yeah, he hasn’t hunted in weeks. He’s dying to stretch his legs. Plus, he’s driving me crazy with all of his nerves. It’ll be good for him to work some of them off on something useful. I’ll be fine for a few days. I’ll have him give you a call, alright?” 

It was a lie. In truth, Sam was the one itching to get Dean out of the bunker. He was dying for some time alone, and it wasn’t because of Dean, it was just… He wanted to cry. He wanted to break down by himself without Dean hovering over him and trying to make the pain go away. He wanted to grieve without Dean telling him it would all be okay. He just wanted to  _ let go _ . He couldn’t do any of that until his brother was out of the bunker, so this was a golden opportunity.

“Well, alright.” She sounded hesitant, but Sam was grateful she was complying nonetheless, “And Sam?”

“Yeah?” He sighed, already knowing it was going to be a comment about how he was feeling or some stupid reassurance. He was so not in the mood.

“You’ll pull through this, you know that, right? You’re so strong. One of the strongest. I’m here for you, if you ever want to talk.” 

“Thanks.” He brushed off, pushing his lips to the side as he sighed. 

“Bye, Sam.” 

Sam swallowed down the nerves as he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. He took a deep breath and quickly announced, “Bye.” before turning the phone off and turning to see Dean standing in the doorway. His hair was messy and his eyes had dark bags beneath them.

“Morning.” Sam greeted, immediately jumping to it, “Jody called and she needs some help with a werewolf pack in Sioux Falls. Seems pretty serious.”

Dean huffed as he walked into the kitchen. He stopped briefly behind Sam to plant his hands on his shoulders and kiss his temple before strolling over to the coffee machine.

“The fun never ends.” He yawned as he placed a new filter in the machine, “Don’t worry, we’ll put someone on it.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows, “Someone?”

“Yeah.” Dean asserted, “Another hunter. You know how it goes.”

“Well, yeah…” Sam hesitated, breathing out slowly before asking, “But, why call someone else when you’re good to go?” 

Dean actually stepped back at that. He turned fully to look at Sam, eyebrows raised as he asked in surprise and confusion, “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Sam rolled his eyes, wheeling forward a little before crossing his arms and elaborating, “Dean, you’ve been angsty for weeks. Go work off the nerves. Help Jody.” 

Dean shook his head, looking Sam up and down.

“Okay, number one, there is no excuse to use the word ‘angsty’. Like,  _ ever _ .” He raised a single brow, joking lightly before lowering his voice to a serious tone and continuing, “And number two, you’re still recovering, Sam. I’m not just gonna leave you alone.” 

He watched Dean turn his back on him, as if to say  _ I’m done with this conversation _ . Sam sighed in frustration, wheeling up and grabbing Dean’s wrist to force his attention back.

“I’m in a wheelchair, Dean, I’m not an invalid.” He argued with his chest puffed, “I can take care of myself for a few days.” 

Dean’s shoulders sank and he sighed, “I know you aren’t, but…” 

“Dean.” Sam cut him off, growing annoyed now, “Seriously, just go. It’ll be good for you.”

Dean slid the coffee pot into the correct place and hit the brew button.

“But what about our research?” He asked worriedly as he looked back down at Sam, “I can’t just stop looking for a few days. What if something pops up and I miss it?” 

Okay, now Sam was the confused one.

“What research?” He inquired with furrowed brows.

“About you.” Dean said like it was obvious, “Getting you to walk again. Making you whole.” 

And yeah,  _ ouch _ . There was that stupid phrase again. It was like a bullet through Sam’s heart. A sharp, painful reminder that Dean still thought he was  _ broken _ . That he needed to be  _ fixed _ . Oh God, that thought hit him fast and hard, taking his breath away.

“You know what?” His voice was suddenly low. Sam’s eyes were filled with tears that he blinked away. He looked down at his lap and swallowed down the emotions before continuing softly, “I’m going to go back to bed. I’m tired, and this isn’t getting anywhere. Just… go help Jody. I’ll be fine.” 

Dean jerked his head back, confused as to why the tone of the conversation changed so fast and harshly. He couldn’t figure it out. 

“Wait, Sam, what just happened?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed and hands protruded in a vague gesture. 

Sam shook his head and tightened his grip on his wheelchair, knuckles paling. He looked up to meet Dean’s eyes and frowned.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, eyes still teary and voice thick. He looked away and breathed out before quietly calling, “See you later, Dean,” and wheeling away. 

He took off down the hallway, and Dean could tell by how long it took to hear a door slam that Sam had gone to his own room, not the one he shared with Dean. And that shattered something inside of him.

He followed Sam once the coffee was done, giving his brother a minute to be alone. 

The door wasn’t locked, so Dean walked right in. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes castdoward and arms keeping his body upright.

“Hey, I brought you coffee.” He cleared his throat, holding the cup up in show before setting it down on the nightstand. 

Sam just nodded his thanks, still avoiding eye contact and looking awfully upset.

“Are you okay?” He asked hesitantly, his heart pounding with the nerves, “Did I say something that upset you? I’m sorry, I didn’t m-”

“You know Dean, not everything is about you.” Sam snapped, cutting him off. 

It was ironic, Sam thought, because this whole thing was in fact because of something Dean said. But he didn’t want his brother to know that. 

Dean shifted on his feet, suddenly very worried that something was seriously wrong with Sam. He wasn’t the type to snap at people or get annoyed easily. He was patient, kind, and forgiving. 

“I know that.” He swallowed weakly, starting again in a soft voice, “I just…”

“What?” Sam snapped again, using a sharp tone that left Dean like a dog with its tail between its legs. 

He was just so frustrated. Bottling up all of your emotions for days would do that to a person. He just wanted Dean out of the fucking bunker so he could explode by himself like a kamikaze.

“Do you really want me to go with Jody? Because if that’s what you really want, I’ll do it.” Dean spoke low, as if afraid of Sam’s reaction, “I trust you, and I know you can take care of yourself.”

Sam let out a long sigh.

“I know.” He asserted, but there was still a hell-of-a-lot of annoyance in his tone, “Just go.”

“You’re sure?” Dean asked, clearly still hesitant himself, “I mean, I could wait a few days. Or you could come with and visit Jody. You’ve only been out of the hospital for a handful of days, you don’t need to jump the shark on this. You’re allowed to be selfish with my time, Sammy.” 

“For God’s sake, Dean, just go!” Sam yelled, finally bringing his head up and making eye contact with a somewhat stunned Dean, “Is it not clear that I want you out of here?!” 

The older Winchester stepped back into the doorframe like he’s been physically hit. His eyes fluttered and he swallowed in shock and disorientation. He blinked back tears threatening to fill his eyes and gulped a few times like a fish as he tried to figure out how on earth to respond. 

“I…” He stuttered, swallowing around the word before looking back up at Sam and whispering, “I’ll be back in a few days, then.”

He walked out of the room and down the hallway before Sam could even so much as nod. He felt nauseous. Sam was basically kicking him out. He didn’t want to be in the same room, he didn’t want to be in the same  _ address _ . Hell, Dean wondered if he even wanted to be with him right now. It was like everything he said was wrong.

So you know what? Maybe it was good for Dean to get away for a couple days. 

Maybe it would benefit both of them more than he thought. 

———

Five werewolves. Two of them barely legal teenagers. The driving time was probably longer than the actual hunt. But either way, Jody probably couldn’t have handled it on her own, and it was nice to see her again and give Sam some space. 

Right after he finished off the last wolf with a silver bullet to the heart, Jody invited him to stay at her house overnight. It was already past midnight, and it would be better to just drive home in the morning. So, he slept overnight in her guest room, and when he woke up? It was to the smell of bacon and coffee. He must be in heaven.

He strolled out to the kitchen and blessed the lord when he saw Jody at the stove putting bacon onto a plate and flipping pancakes.

“Hope you’re hungry! I never get to cook for company.” She smiled as she turned off the stovetop and brought Dean a plate. 

“I’m always hungry.” Dean grinned, “This looks great Jody, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She smiled back before taking a seat across from him and starting in on her own plate of food.

They talked about werewolves, and bullets, and the weather. They discussed witch killing spells, local crime, and the new Speilberg movie. 

When Jody’s plate was empty and Dean was pigging out on a round of seconds, the conversation finally moved on…

“So, Dean.” Jody prompted softly, “I can’t help but notice you’ve been avoiding a very relevant, large topic.”

Dean looked up at her with wide eyes. Deer caught in the headlights.

“What?” He asked around a mouthful of pancake.

Jody raised her brows in amusement before sighing and identifying, “Sam.”

Dean froze. He dropped his fork to the plate and looked up at Jody with a serious expression. He swallowed down his food and took a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, what about him?” He asked, jaw clenching, “He doesn’t want me around, why should I talk about him?”

Jody sighed and reached forward to place her hand over Dean’s wrist in a comforting gesture.

“Dean, I’m certain that’s not true. Sam is going through a lot, sometimes people need time to be alone. You understand that, don’t you?” She explained, lips pulled up in a tight little smile that was half sad and half encouraging.

“I don’t know, it just feels like I keep saying the wrong things.” Dean admitted with a sad, shy smile. It was true. 

“Sam is going through so much right now. I’m sure that no matter what you try to say it’s just overwhelming for him.” Jody tried to reassure him, “He needs time.”

“I know, and I get that.” He insisted, “But, this is different. We were so open with each other and I thought we were in a good place, but then it’s like a flip switched and now he’s all cold and withdrawn. He barely looks at me. I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault, somehow. We had a small argument before it happened.” 

Jody straightened up, interest peaked.

“About what?” She asked.

“About you.” Dean told her before quickly correcting himself and elaborating, “Well, about this case. Sam wanted me to come and help you, but I was hesitant because he only just got out of the hospital and he’s still not one hundred percent. Plus, I’m still looking for ways to cure him, and I didn’t want to just abandon that research. I didn’t want to leave him alone.” 

“Wait, wait.” Jody held up a hand to stop his word vomit before asking, “Did you say you’re looking for ways to cure Sam?” 

“Yeah.” Dean said easily, “So?”

Jody looked down and closed her eyes for a moment before peering back up and grimacing a bit as she quietly told him, “So… there might not be a way.” 

Dean’s jaw clenched, “There’s always a way.” 

Jody frowned and squinted a bit as she hesitantly, yet firmly argued, “No, honey. There isn’t always. I wish there was, but sometimes there’s just not.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Dean’s voice cracked a tiny bit at the end, his tone a perfect blend of sorrow and anger. 

“Because Sam knows it, too.” She answered softly, still trying to be as graceful as she could be, “Your brother is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. He knows that there might not be a way to heal him. And… he wants to know that you’ll accept him even if he can’t be fixed.” 

“Of course I will!” Dean shouted a little too loudly, “I always have!” 

“I know that, and you know that, but does Sam?” She smiled sadly, “If everytime you talk to him about his injury ends with something about healing him or fixing him… he’s going to think that you want him to go back to how he was.”

Dean raised his brows and argued honestly, “Well, I do.”

He straightened his back out in the chair and leaned forward before elaborating, “I want him to walk again. I want him to feel again. I… I want everything for him.” 

“I know.” Jody smiled fondly before swallowing and prodding, “But wanting him to get better so he will be happier is different than wanting him to get better so he’ll be easier to love.” 

“What?” Dean reacted like he’s been shot, flinching back and defending quickly, “I would never want him to get better for me! I want him to get better for  _ him _ .” 

“Again, I know that and you know that.” Jody squinted and whispered the last part of that sentence, as if she was afraid she was crossing a line, “But I think you need to make it clear to Sam, because he’s struggling with the line between those two.”

Dean scoffed, feeling offended that Sam would think that of him. Doesn’t he know by now that he was in it for the long haul? They didn’t need to exchange any vows to know they would stick by each other sickness and health, til death do them part, and all of that other nonsense. Well… Dean knew it, at least. 

“Does he really think that little of me?” Dean laughed humorlessly, leaning back in his chair and looking away from Jody’s face. The fear grew in his stomach, twisting his guts and yanking at his confidence. 

“Of course not.” Jody assured as she squeezed his forearm, “This isn’t about you, it’s about him.” 

“Yeah, well, he should know me well enough to know that I want to be with him no matter what!” Dean grinded his teeth, feeling slightly betrayed that Sam would doubt him.

“Hey!” Jody snapped and Dean shot his head up in surprise. She continued in a no-nonsense tone, “Snap out of it. If you search for rationale in this, you’ll never find an answer. Sam is worried about you not wanting him because of his paralysis because  _ he is scared _ of you not wanting him because of his paralysis. He’s projecting.” 

“Yeah, and you know Sam so well?” Dean narrowed his eyes, voice lethal.

The sheriff looked at him with daunting eyes and warned, “Watch that tone.”

Truth was, what Jody said was the only thing in the world that had made sense so far, but Dean didn’t like that he wasn’t the one to think of it. He was supposed to be the one that knew Sam inside and out, not Jody. Dean realized he was projecting his own feelings onto Jody and he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” He spoke low, resting his head on his hand, “I’m sorry. I know this is hard for him… but it’s hard for me too, you know?”

Jody nodded and told him softly, patiently, “Nobody’s doubting that. I think you both need time, you’ve lost so much.” 

Dean knew it was true. He did. It’s just… he didn’t want to feel like a bad guy for wanting Sam to get better. It wasn’t because he didn’t love him the way he was, it was because he wanted Sam to love himself again. He wanted to be able to have sex and let Sam finish properly. He wanted him to hunt again. He wanted him to be  _ happy _ .

“I just… he  _ can’t  _ be like that forever.” He told Jody as much, fighting to keep his throat clear and voice void of tears, “He can’t be.”

Jody sighed and started, “De-”

“He’s lost too much already.” Dean cut her off, very much still in the heat of his own argument, “I mean, mom, dad, Jess, Ellen, Jo, Charlie… the list goes on forever. He went to hell and was tortured for  _ so _ long, it’s just… it’s  _ not fair _ . He should be done sacrificing. He shouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Why does he always end up suffering, Jody? Why him?” 

Jody looked down, blinking away tears before bringing her head back up and shrugging sadly,“I don’t know.” 

Dean didn’t like that answer. It was the only one he’d ever gotten and he needed more than that.

“He deserves peace. He deserves happiness. And all he gets is more pain. I just…” Dean’s voice cracked, “I want him to be whole again.”

Jody tilted her head, “Well, I agree with you up until that last part. Dean, Sam doesn’t need to be able to walk to be whole. He’s still the same heart, the same brain. The same man you love. He’s whole with or without his legs.”

Oh God. 

Dean felt the bile rise in the back of his throat, the acid swirling in hhis gut and making his mouth go dry. Guilt flooded him like a tsunami after an earthquake. 

“Shit.” He regarded, throwing his hand onto the table palm-down.

Jody leaned forward, curious, “What?”

Dean looked up with a tight, self-hatred filled smile.

“You’re right.” He said in a very frustrated tone, “And I know why Sam shut down on me, now. It was because of what I said, what I  _ implied _ . I told him the same thing I told you… that I wanted to make him whole.”

He lowered his head to the table and rested it on top of his arm, feeling the self-loathing seep into his body and spread.

“You can fix it.” Jody announced with a confidence Dean envied.

He lifted his head and looked at her, “How?”

Jody shrugged, “You just have to tell him what you really mean. Truly, deep down. You have to make him understand. You have to sympathize with him, and you have to be patient. But, Dean, what’s really important?”

She paused and waited for Dean to nod in encouragement for her to continue on her train of thought.

“You just gotta be there for him.” She tilted her head and softly smiled. IT was clear she believed every word she was saying, “Love him regardless.” 

Dean’s heart squeezed tight, but he knew deep down that Jody was right. It was going to be a lot of work and a difficult conversation, but he would make Sam understand. He would help relieve the insecurity. It was the absolute least he could do.

“I can do that.” He spoke softly, emotions still heavy in his throat and voice, “Thank you, Jody. It means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it.” She reached for his hand and gave it a firm squeeze, “You can make it up to me by getting your brother down here next time you stop by. I’d love to see him.” 

Dean let out a little laugh and tilted his head, “I’ll try my best. Thanks again.”

And with that, he made a move to get up and pack his clothes to head out, but before he could, Jody was gripping his wrist and pulling him back down firmly.

“Uh-uh-uh.” She reprimanded, pointing to his plate of food and half-empty coffee cup, “You are not leaving my table until you finish that.”

Dean smirked and picked up his fork again, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Jody laughed and took a long sip of her own coffee mug.

“So, about those symbols you drew on the wall…” 

————

The drive home was long and torturous. Even with his foot on the car floor, it just didn’t seem like the car could move fast enough. Dean was so desperate to see and talk to Sam that every red light was a major inconvenience and any bird that flew by was getting  _ hit _ . 

He sent a text to his brother when he left Jody’s to let him know he was on his way home, but he never got a reply. Half of him was rational and figured it was because Sam was still in a mood over everything that went down between them, but… the other -overly protective big brother- part of him was scared to the bone that something had happened to Sam while he was away. What if he was attacked? What if he choked? What if someone broke in? 

No. Dammit. He couldn’t think like that. 

Still, he drove faster.

He didn’t break the Lebanon line until just after 7:00 that night. He figured he’d be nice and grab some food on the way home. To be fair, he was starving, but he also figured it would be a good way to break the ice with Sam. If he could get him sitting down and eating, he could get him in a conversation too. He hoped, at least.

What he wasn’t expecting was to walk into the bunker and find all the lights off and the main room completely vacated.

“Sam?” He called into the void, eyebrows drawing together as he flicked the lights on and glided his eyes around the empty room.

It was the exact same way that Dean had left it. There was even a candy wrapper sitting on the table that Dean had put there before he left- and that was four days ago. Normally Sam was a neat freak about that type of thing, it was very unlike him to just… leave it be.

Dean dropped his dufflebag to the floor and crooked his head so he could peer down the hallway. The lights were off there as well. Weird… 

He shook his head to fight back the nerves and strolled out of the main room into the corridor. He flicked on the light and called out his brother’s name once again.

“Sammy?” 

No response still, and Dean’s heart was beating faster now. What was going on? It’s not like the kid took off- he couldn’t freaking  _ drive _ . Dean walked into the kitchen to leave the takeout food bags on the table before turning tail and heading towards the bedrooms.

“Sa-!” He yelled one last time, but he stopped himself midway through when he saw the faint glow of light coming from under the bathroom door. He let out a relieved breath and knocked on the door twice.

“Hey, I’m home.” He said loud enough to be heard through the door. Sam didn’t reply, so he continued with a hesitant swallow, “Take your time, I’m just letting you know. Okay? I brought you a salad. We should uh… we should talk.”

A few seconds passed before there was a quiet “Okay” from the other side of the door. Dean nodded, taking it as a win. 

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He announced before stepping away from the door and heading back down the hallway. He stopped briefly at his own room to shake his jacket off and toss it on the bed. He’d deal with it later.

He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he walked into the kitchen and took their meals out of the takeout bag. Truth was, he was nervous as all hell about the discussion they were about to have. He didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable in any way- ever. But… they had to do it. It was important. Sam had to know that Dean didn’t want to  _ fix him _ , he wanted to  _ help him _ \- and he would love him no matter what. Legs or not.

So Dean sat down at the kitchen table and carefully set out Sam’s salad in front of the chair across from him. He pulled out his burger and fries and placed them down on top of a few napkins so he wouldn’t spill all over the table- for Sam’s sake. The neat freak would be the one cleaning it up, and Dean didn’t want to make him do that. 

He was four bites into his burger and Sam still hadn’t come into the kitchen. He knit his brows and looked down at his watch. It’d been ten minutes since he told Sam to meet him. What was taking so long? 

Worry suddenly gnawing at him, Dean got up from his chair and rubbed the burger grease off on his pants. He cleared his throat and walked down the hallway, a frown on his lips. 

The bathroom door was still shut and there was still light pouring out from the gap at the bottom. Dean swallowed nervously before knocking again.

“Hey, you alright in there?” He asked, not wanting to push Sam, but not wanting to ignore him if he was in any kind of trouble, either. 

There was a pause and then a muffled noise and Dean’s ears perked. His heart started pounding faster, and he leaned into the door further.

“Sam?” He asked, more worry in his voice, now. 

Sam’s response was a small, broken whisper of his name, “Dean…” 

It sounded so wounded. So small. So  _ fragile _ . 

It set a fire in Dean and all he could think was  _ fuck privacy _ as he shoved the door open and stepped into the bathroom. 

The sight that greeted him set him back on his feet. His eyes widened and he took a subconscious step back, the breath catching in his throat. 

Sam - _ his Sammy _ \- was laying on the floor, back propped up against the wall and legs spread. His chest was bare and his scars were exposed, his light gray tee shirt disregarded on the floor. His legs were clad in sweatpants, but he had no shoes on. His lower body was in a weird, uncomfortable looking position, but Sam had no control over that. Dean trailed his eyes up to Sam’s face and his heart broke at the expression he saw there. His brother’s eyes were bright red and shiny with tears, lips chapped and cheeks pale. His hair was air drying slowly, but the ends were still damp. The spaces underneath his eyes were swollen and there were shining stains from tears all down his face. His lips were quivering just slightly. 

“Sammy…” Dean whimpered, walking into the room and dropping to his knees beside his brother. He slid a hand under his chin and guided his face up so their eyes met, “Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Sam just turned away, and it was only then that Dean looked up and saw that his wheelchair was in the corner by the shower, broken. The left wheel was hanging off and the brake was jammed. The thing looked totally mangled. How did that happen?

“Sam.” He cooed softly as he lowered his gaze back to his brother's face. He wiped the tears from his cheeks with the pad of his thumb as he continued, “What happened?” 

Sam slowly brought his gaze back to Dean’s, and the sight of his bright red eyes made Dean’s heart ache. He swallowed, Adam’s apple visibly bobbing, as he gestured vaguely to the wheelchair. 

“It broke.” He whispered so quietly it was almost inaudible, but Dean got the message. He nodded minimally. 

“I can see that.” He smiled sadly, gently teasing his brother in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere a bit. It didn’t work. Sam still looked miserable. 

“I was just showering.” Sam whispered after a moment, and his eyes were full of tears as he spoke, throat clogged with emotion and voice thick, “I was trying to go from the shower chair… to the wheelchair… but it broke. I fell, and… I can’t get up on my own without it…” 

Dean’s heart seized. The tears in Sam’s eyes were telepathically linked to his own. He had to blink a few times to keep them back as he breathed out to calm himself down. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked once he thought his voice was under control, eyes searching for injury on Sam’s body.

Sam shook his head and reached a hand up to wipe away his tears, “No. Bruises maybe, but they stopped hurting.” 

Dean knit his eyebrows and jerked his head back a bit at that. 

“They stopped?” He questioned in confusion, “Sam, how long have you been here?”

Sam looked incredibly despaired and almost embarrassed, then. His shoulders sunk and his frown deepened. 

“A few hours.” He said quietly, trying to sound neutral but failing miserably. 

“A few hours?!” Dean shouted in surprise. Sam flinched in response to Dean’s reaction and Dean quickly regretted responding so loudly. He brushed a hand down Sam’s arm and cooed, “Sorry, sorry. It’s alright.” 

Sam just looked down, hair falling in his face. This had to feel embarrassing for him, Dean realized. Even though it was ridiculous to be embarrassed by something like this, it was Sam’s speciality to find ways to blame himself. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, this isn’t your fault.” Dean felt the need to say, making eye contact with his brother the whole time, “I’m gonna help you, okay?” 

He didn’t give Sam a chance to respond before taking a breath to eliminate his nerves and scooting towards Sam. 

He reached out with his hands and spoke quietly, “Let’s get you out of here.”

He patted Sam’s shoulders once before lowering his palms to his hips. He carefully started wedging his arm underneath Sam’s back enough to lift, but just when he started to raise Sam above the ground, his younger brother flinched away.

“Dean, get off of me!” He snapped, hands flailing out and pushing roughly at Dean’s chest. 

And he may be paralyzed, but damn the kid was strong. His push sent Dean stumbling back a few inches and he had to catch himself with his hands to keep from falling down. His eyebrows narrowed. 

“Woah, woah, woah.” Dean threw his hands up in surrender, confused and concerned as to why Sam reacted so vibrantly, “What happened? Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Sam rolled his eyes and scoffed before breathing out in frustration and lowering his voice, “My chair… the backup is in my room. Just get it, please.” 

Dean looked him up and down, confused. He pressed, “It’ll be easier if I just carry you to my room and then we can get the chair.” 

Sam’s face reddened a bit and he shook his head firmly. He wasn’t budging. 

“No.” He argued back, locking his jaw to display his stubbornness, “I’m not moving unless you get me the chair, Dean. I’m not useless, I can get out of here myself. The only reason I’m stuck here now is because that stupid one broke.” He waved frustratedly at the wheelchair in the corner. 

Dean sighed, long and low.  _ Of course _ this was a pride thing. Sam didn’t want to accept help, because accepting help meant admitting that he needed it. Neither of them were good about that. Dean understood one hundred percent, so he swallowed down his rebuttals and nodded. He knew Sam was being sort of stubborn, but his brother had lost so much. If Dean could make him feel a little bit better by allowing him to keep some of his pride, then he would. Every single time. 

So, he agreed. He patted Sam on the shoulder once as he acknowledged, “Okay. I’ll be right back.” 

He stood up with a grunt, using every ounce of his willpower to not turn and look back at Sam. It would only amplify the shame and vulnerability his brother was feeling. They just needed to jump this hurdle as quickly and efficiently as they could. 

Once he was out of Sam’s visual field, Dean took off in a sprint towards his brother’s room. He wanted Sam off the floor of the bathroom  _ yesterday _ . He ran into Sam’s room and grabbed the wheelchair -which was folded in half and propped up against the wall- before running back out and down the hallway. He slowed to a walk just before entering the bathroom so that Sam wouldn’t know how urgently he was treating this. 

“Alright, come on.” Dean squatted down and reached out for Sam with his arms, but his brother immediately batted his hands away. 

“Sam.” Dean sighed and blinked for a long moment before reopening his eyes and pressing, “Let me help.” 

Sam clenched his jaw and jutted his head out, “No. Get out of here. I’m fine. I’m perfectly capable of getting myself into that chair.” 

And that was it. The frustration and worry boiled over. Dean snapped and yelled loudly, “No you’re not!” 

His face turned red and his heart sank when he realized what he’d said and how he said it. He was just so tired of arguing, of Sam’s stubbornness, but it shouldn’t have come out like  _ that _ . Fuck… 

Fresh tears were already springing into Sam’s eyes and he took a deep, shaky breath before looking up at Dean like a kicked puppy. 

Dean deflated, breathing out in regret, “Sam…” 

Sam shook his head and looked down, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Dean. 

“Just go.” Sam got choked up and had to clear his throat to get the words out correctly. He tried again with a tilt of his head, “Please just go.”

His voice was barely a whisper. Guilt was swirling deep in Dean’s gut and he fought the urge to grab Sam by the shoulders and shake him until he understood.

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” He whispered, keeping patient eyes on Sam as he begged, “Please let me help you. I just want you to be okay.” 

“Well, I’m not.” Sam snapped, looking up and meeting Dean’s eyes, “I’m not ever going to be okay. I’m fucking broken, alright? Is that what you wanna hear?” 

Dean’s heart shattered.

“I can’t hunt, I can’t drive, I can’t walk, I can’t…” His voice cracked, “I can’t even  _ shower  _ by myself. I’m useless. I have  _ no _ purpose anymore! I should’ve just died back there, because this? This is worse. All I’m doing is humiliating myself and burdening you! I can’t even-”

“Stop it!” Dean yelled, closing his eyes and grabbing Sam’s shoulder. He made direct eye contact and commanded, “Stop talking about yourself like that!” 

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. He turned his head to the side, tears visibly shining in a surface layer over his eyes. 

In a thin, scarily calm voice he announced, “The one thing I was put on this planet to do is hunt. Since we were kids, it is all I’ve ever known. It’s the only thing I’m good at. It’s our  _ family _ . It’s my entire purpose.” His voice shifted to be louder and more rigid, “And I can’t do it. I can’t do  _ anything _ , Dean! I can’t move! So why…” 

He trailed off with a thick, tearful voice and Dean’s pulse hastened. He swallowed nervously and hesitantly asked, “Why what?” 

Sam met his eyes and shrugged with a sad smile, “So why am I still here?” 

Dean looked down, closing his eyes to stop the tears that were burning his irises from falling. Every nerve in his body was pinched, and every cell was aching. He had to do  _ something _ .

So he brought his gaze back up and when he saw that Sam was looking the other way, he grabbed his chin and pulled it towards him so their eyes met. 

“Sam, you are here because you  _ matter _ . To the world, to the people we’ve saved, to our friends, to  _ me _ . You are enough just the way you are.” He pushed out painfully, hating with everything in him that he had to say it, “You are everything to me.  _ Everything _ . Now, I don’t want to hear anymore of this ‘useless’ crap. You are the same person you were before, and that person is incredible.” 

Sam just inhaled through his nose and said sadly, “Dean, even you know that’s not true. You’re the one who keeps talking about ‘making me whole again’. You don’t want me like this, either.” 

Dean bit his lip and tilted his head, feeling the rejection and guilt slam into him like a freight train. He did not let go of Sam’s eye contact as he argued back strongly.

“No, no, Sam. I didn’t mean it the way you think I did. I… I want you to be able to walk again. I want to be able to give you pleasure. I want you to hunt.” Sam tried to look away, tears burning in his eyes, but Dean tightened his grip on his chin to keep his gaze on him as he continued, “But it’s because I want you to be happy, not because I will love you any less if you can’t or because I think you’re not whole. That was a stupid,  _ stupid _ thing to say, and I’m sorry.” 

Sam shook his head out of Dean’s grasp and looked down at his body, sprawled all over the floor. 

“You keep searching for ways to  _ fix me _ .” Sam mumbled, those last two words leaving his mouth like they were poisonous. 

Dean slouched down. He shook his head and whispered, “Sammy…” 

He couldn’t help it. He needed to  _ show _ Sam it wasn’t true. So… he leaned forward and gently kissed Sam’s lips, lingering for a few seconds (and not giving Sam a chance to push him away) before pulling back a couple inches and sighing. 

“I don’t want to fix you because you _aren’t broken_. I just want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. I don’t give two craps about your legs, or whether or not you can hunt. I care about this,” Dean placed an open palm over Sam’s heart, “Because that’s what makes you Sam. And you know how I feel about him.” 

Sam sighed and blinked once, for a long moment, before reopening his eyes and bringing his own shaky hand up to rest over Dean’s on his chest. He peered down, eyes still glassy and lips still chapped. 

“We’re gonna work on this.” Dean whispered, leaning in to rest his forehead against Sam’s, swiping his thumb over his collarbone, “I promise you. We’re gonna get you better.”

Sam jerked back and dropped his hand. His voice was laced in betrayal and hurt when he accused roughly, “But you said that-”

“I’m not talking about your legs, Sam.” Dean cut him off, voice patient, “I’m talking about your mind. We’re going to adjust to this new situation. We’re going to adapt, alright? I’m gonna make you realize that you’re enough, wheelchair or not. If it takes everything in me, I’m gonna make you realize. I’ve got you.” 

Sam looked up, eyebrows furrowed low and frown deep.

“Don’t… please don’t stay out of any obligation.” 

Dean jutted his head out. 

“Obligation?” He asked in complete confusion.

Sam nodded, “We got together when I was hunting. When I was capable and independent. I don’t expect you to think of me the same or stay with me regardless.” 

Dean squinted, “Sam, what the hell are you talking about?” 

“I’m giving you an out. You can put an end to this here and now. I’ll understand. You didn’t sign up for this.” He gestured halfheartedly to his lower body.

Dean felt a wave of anger travel up his spine like a river of electricity. He grit his teeth together and clenched his fist. 

“Enough!” He shouted, watching Sam just barely flinch at the volume, “Stop it, Sam! Stop thinking less of yourself! Stop assuming I won’t want you just because you’re hurt! I love you! That doesn’t change because of an injury!” 

“But this isn’t just an injury!” Sam argued back immediately, “This is  _ permanent _ !” 

“So what?” Dean yelled, face going red, “I’ve cared about you since the day you were born! I loved you when you were dealing with demon blood, and the cage, and the trials. Through everything we have  _ ever  _ been through. What makes this any different?!” 

Sam didn’t know how to respond. He just ducked his head down and breathed in slowly.

Dean took it as a cue to continue. He exhaled and calmly elaborated, “Sammy, baby, look at me. I promise you I will never, ever leave you. And it’s not because of any obligation, it’s because there is no place in this world I would rather be than at your side.”

Sam kept his gaze down, but his expression was thoughtful- as if he was trying to make sense of Dean’s words. He sat there contemplating for several long moments before looking up and wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. Hesitantly and shyly, he raised his arms towards Dean. He avoided eye contact the whole time. He was embarrassed, but he was finally accepting Dean’s help, and that was a win.

Dean let out a deep breath and then he was leaning forward and helping lift Sam up off the ground and into the wheelchair. It took some crafty maneuvering, but eventually they got him situated and Dean handed him back his tee shirt. He helped him slide it over his head and then he kneeled down and pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. 

“I’m proud of you.” He whispered, running a hand through Sam’s hair.

His younger brother scoffed, “For what? Lying on the floor like an infant for hours before needing to be carried to a wheelchair? Yeah, real highlight reel moment.” 

Dean shook his head softly, “For accepting help. Even I haven’t figured that one out yet.” 

Sam looked up at him, lips swollen and eyes red from all the earlier tears. 

“Look,” Dean sighed, “Jody and I talked, and I… I realize I’ve made some mistakes. I should never have suggested that you needed to be made whole again, or that you needed to be fixed. I want you to know that I don’t believe either of those things. I love you the way you are, and I want to be with you no matter what, okay? Please say you believe me.”

Sam took a moment. He swallowed down the fear and insecurity and embarrassment. He took a deep breath and tried to let the love and trust he had in his brother take over. It took several minutes, but eventually he looked up and reached for Dean’s hand. He gave it a squeeze and looked at him with adoration and respect in his eyes as he spoke softly.

“I believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you! 
> 
> Feel free to comment, just keep it kind and/or constructive pleasee. 
> 
> Xoxoxo


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